


What You Grow to Be

by curlychameleon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Draco Malfoy, Eventual Smut, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Slow Burn, Top Harry, Virginity Kink, Will add more as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 14:05:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15708741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curlychameleon/pseuds/curlychameleon
Summary: Not for the first time that morning, Draco asked himself what he was doing here. He could have easily sent his mother’s letter by owl and avoided all of this nonsense-- he had no reason to think that his presence would be welcome here, that his aunt would even want to meet him after everything that had happened. But there was something that had drawn him here, that had made it impossible to just post the envelope as he had been asked. So he took a deep breath and knocked.





	What You Grow to Be

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I'm not at all new here, but this is my first ever attempt at writing fanfiction. I'm not sure how often I will be able to update, but I will add new tags and warnings as I go. Thanks!

Draco checked the address on the back of the envelope one last time before walking briskly up the drive to the cottage. It was a small house, with walls that could use a coat of paint, a roof that desperately needed re-shingled, and a front porch that creaked in an uneasy sort of way as Draco stepped up to the front door. It was hard to imagine that anyone born from the Black family could be living here. Again he made sure that the address matched the one on the envelope in his mother’s neat, loopy handwriting.

Not for the first time that morning, Draco asked himself what he was doing here. He could have easily sent his mother’s letter by owl and avoided all of this nonsense-- he had no reason to think that his presence would be welcome here, that his aunt would even want to meet him after everything that had happened. But there was something that had drawn him here, that had made it impossible to just post the envelope as he had been asked. So he took a deep breath and knocked.

Andromeda Tonks looked nothing like his mother. With the wild brown curls, she could almost pass for Bellatrix, but her gaze was much softer, the line of her mouth less sharp.

“Draco?” Her eyes widened in shock.

“Hello,” Draco started, suddenly realizing that he hadn’t even thought about what to call her. Mrs. Tonks? Aunt Andromeda? “I apologize,” he said instead. “I know you weren’t expecting me. Is this a bad time?”

“No, no of course!” She held the door open for him to come inside. “We were just listening to our programme, sit down, make yourself at home.”

Draco walked into the tiny living room, took in the pale yellow couches, the muggle television set in one corner, and-

The baby sitting on the middle of the carpet made a slurping noise as he stuck one end of a toy cauldron in his mouth.

“Ah,” Draco said, not sure how he could have forgotten. “So this is…”

“My grandson Teddy.” Andromeda gazed down at the baby adoringly. “And your second cousin, I suppose.”

The baby spit out the cauldron and gazed up at Draco, considering him. The shock of bright orange hair that stood up on his head was alarmingly familiar.  

“Erm, is there any chance he’s connected to the Weasley family somehow?” Draco asked. “Maybe on his father’s side?”

Andromeda laughed. “None whatsoever. Bill and Fleur Weasley were just visiting here a few days ago, and Teddy’s been ginger ever since. He’s a metamorphmagus,” she answered Draco’s questioning look, “like my Dora.”

As if on cue, the baby’s flaming orange hair suddenly turned white blonde.

“Oh!” Andromeda exclaimed, sounding delighted. “He likes you!”

The baby gurgled a happy sound and went back to sucking on the cauldron. Draco thought he saw its chin get a little pointier. He stroked his own self-consciously.

“Tea, dear?” Andromeda asked him. “While it’s lovely to finally meet you, I must admit this is a surprise.”

Draco accepted the cup of tea and sat on one of the yellow sofas, eyes still fixed on the baby, which was now banging the cauldron rhythmically against the floor.

“Yes, well, I do actually have a reason for visiting. You might have heard, my mother is staying abroad for the time being. She has some family in America-- er, I suppose you must as well-- but anyway, she wished for me to give you this.” He awkwardly passed the heavy envelope to Andromeda. “I believe it is her way of trying to make amends.”

Draco’s aunt slid open the envelope warily, as if she suspected it might explode. Her expression didn’t soften when she saw its contents.

“Money,” Andromeda said flatly. Draco cleared his throat nervously.

“It’s, well, I believe it is a sort of stipend to be set up from our account at Gringots. With father gone… we have need for a lot less. I believe my mother wished to help support you in a small way. She… regrets her role in your family’s treatment of your marriage. And she regrets all that you have lost in the war. As do I.” Draco ended his speech, feeling slightly embarrassed, and he drank more tea to occupy himself as Andromeda sat stiffly in her chair. The baby crawled toward her legs, and she scooped him up in her lap. He cooed, suddenly sprouting a pair of bushy, acid green eyebrows.

“As much as I appreciate the gesture,” Andromeda began, voice sounding forcibly neutral, “I cannot accept your money.” Draco opened his mouth to speak, but she put up a hand to silence him. “This has nothing to do with pride, and I… truly _want_ to believe that my sister is ready to mend these bridges between us after so many years. But this money has been nothing but a curse in our family for generations, Draco. I want nothing to do with it. I hope you understand.”

“I do,” Draco answered her, and he meant it. “I believe there were things that my mother simply wanted to tell you. But us Malfoys,” Draco grimaced, “sometimes don’t know how to communicate beyond money.”

Andromeda smiled.

“I am glad you came here, Draco. I know how hard things must be for you right now. Even if we have never known each other, it is a comfort to be with family.” The baby let out a happy shriek, and his eyebrows transformed into an impressive handlebar mustache.

Draco felt a warmth bloom in his chest. “Indeed.”

They sipped their tea in silence for a minute before he got up the nerve to ask.

“Do you think… would it be okay if I visited again sometime? Maybe next week? The term will be starting, but I should have time to slip away.”

Andromeda shifted awkwardly, and his heart sank a little.

“Of course you may visit again, we would love the company, and I believe your cousin has become a bit enamored with you.” She gave a wry smile at the way the baby was gazing at Draco in fascination. “However, next week is a bit too close to the full moon. Perhaps the week after that?”

Draco stared at the baby, the realization sinking in.

“So he… er, is he…”

“Not fully,” she answered tactfully. “He doesn’t entirely transform. But it is a… difficult time for him. It can be quite chaotic I’m afraid.”

“I’m sorry.” Draco tried to imagine the thing in Andromeda’s lap suddenly sprouting fangs or claws. He shivered. “Does he not take Wolfsbane? They make a form safe for children, don’t they?”

Andromeda hummed. “They do, but it’s highly regulated by the ministry right now. After what happened during the war, there are so many new cases, and resources are rather slim. Priority is of course given to those who endure the full effects-- and Teddy is only half.”

As far as Draco was concerned, half a werewolf was still too much for one woman to be expected to take care of on her own, but he kept that to himself.

“I think I ought to be going,” Draco said, reluctantly checking his pocket watch. “Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Tonks.”

She smiled brightly. “Please, call me Andromeda. And call anytime. Just check the moon cycle first, or you may get more out of your visit than you bargained for.” Draco must have looked horrified, judging by her laugh. The baby clenched a chubby fist in his direction as Draco moved toward the door, and he waved back uncertainly. It’s hair promptly erupted in violent purple ringlets.

Draco smiled as he turned his back on the house, before apparating into the Leaky Cauldron.

 

***

 

“Alright,” Hermione said with an air of authority. “Quills and parchment first, then we’ll stop at Wiseacre’s, then Ron, you need new robes-- yes, you do-- then we can get all our books last, so we don’t have to carry them around all day.”

Ron groaned. “You’d think they’d lighten up on the reading list this year, all things considered.” 

“Nonsense,” Hermione said, looking scandalized. “You do realize we’ve missed an entire year of instruction, don’t you? And more than that, studies have shown that going too long between learning periods can significantly decrease retention of material, which means we’ve probably forgotten a lot from 6th year too--”

“‘Mione,” Ron cut in. “First of all, I already forgot everything from 6th year the moment exams were over. Secondly, I’m pretty sure you could have passed your NEWT’s first term, so for Merlin’s sake,  _ relax _ .”

Everything felt far too normal. Harry half-listened to Ron and Hermione bicker as he looked around Diagon Alley with an odd feeling as though he’d been transported back in time. All around them there was evidence of the war-- unfamiliar shop names where old vendors used to be, gleaming new shop windows where the glass had been boarded up or broken, and some structures were still being rebuilt, ministry construction crews levitating stacks of bricks around on roped off corners. But it felt as though nothing at all had really changed. It was the same mad circus of students running around clutching their lists from Hogwarts, old women bickering with shopkeepers over the price of doxy eggs, parents trying fruitlessly to herd their children away from the exhibit on the newest Nimbus 3000. 

“So,” Ron was saying, “Honeydukes’ new shop, Quality Quidditch Supplies, Eeylops--”

“The joke shop,” Harry added. “I want to talk to Lee before we go.”

“--that new ice cream place Bertie Botts opened last month, too.” 

Hermione sighed, looking at Ron with fond exasperation. “You two go where you like, then. I’m heading to Wiseacre’s before the lines get too long. Meet back here at two?” She kissed Ron on the cheek, and was lost to the crowd in a swish of bushy hair. 

“Excellent,” Ron grinned. “Eeylops first? I’ve got to pick up more treats for Pig.” 

They wound their way through the throng of people, and Harry tried to remember, as he nearly knocked over a group of them, when eleven-year-olds had gotten so small. 

They picked up the treats for Pigwidgeon, as well as an odd little snitch-shaped toy that would hang from the top of his cage and zoom around. Then they took a detour to Bertie Botts Every Flavor Ice Cream before Ron announced that if he didn’t get fitted for new robes, Hermione had threatened not to help him with his transfiguration essays this term. Harry waited for him outside Madam Malkin’s while he finished his ice cream (peppermint and chili flakes). 

A familiar gleam of blonde hair caught his eye from the apothecary across the street. 

Malfoy stood with his head bent over one of the stands, examining the powdered moonstone. Harry watched as he asked the shopkeeper a question, and then leaned in to look at it more closely. Seeming to decide, Malfoy motioned toward the display, and the man rang up his purchase. 

Harry was struck by how different Malfoy looked. He certainly appeared less sickly than the last time he had seen him during the trial. And while his robes were still as immaculate as ever, his hair was longer, a bit more unkempt. It suited him. Harry realized he was staring only after Malfoy looked up and made eye contact. He quickly glanced away, pretending to be very interested in a nearby stand of self-cleaning cauldrons. To his horror, Malfoy grabbed his bag from the shopkeeper and began crossing the street straight toward him. 

“You’re rubbish at being discreet, you know,” came the familiar drawl. Harry felt his face go hot as he looked up at Malfoy. “I always knew when you were spying on me at school, too.”

“I was not spying!” Harry scoffed. 

“Oh, really?” Draco rolled his eyes. “In the market for a new cauldron then, are you? I would personally recommend the copper one on the far left. Although truthfully I was under the impression that you were always a bit pants at potions.” Harry was about to tell Malfoy just where he could go stick that cauldron, when Ron burst out of Madam Malkin’s, breathing heavily. 

“Blimey, Harry, I swear she’s gone mad. Or at least blind. She kept pricking me with those pins, and then accusing me of being twitchy-- well of course a man is going to flinch a bit when he’s being stabbed like a pincushion every few seconds! And then she brought out these awful robes and tried to convince me to try them on, they were bright yellow, and the pattern actually  _ moved around _ \--” Ron froze in his tracks. “What the hell are  _ you _ doing here?”

Malfoy grimaced. “Charming as always, Weasley. I was just leaving.” 

“Git,” Ron said as Malfoy walked away in a sweep of robes. “What did he want, anyway?”

Harry frowned as he watched the blonde head disappear into the crowd. “Nothing, just to be an arse. Let’s stop by the joke shop quick, it’s almost one o’clock.”

Ron continued ranting about his harrowing experience with Madam Malkin as they walked, Harry partially tuning him out. He was struck once more by how normal everything seemed, with the same familiar smells and sounds. It was strange to think about how many of these people had lost someone during the war. And yet, it all just continued on. He wasn’t sure he could even imagine a year of Hogwarts without having to worry about someone trying to kill him. 

“... and honestly, if I’d have known that the git would actually show his face around Hogwarts again, I wouldn’t have come back myself,” Ron finished. 

Harry snorted. “Like Hermione would let you skip finishing your NEWT’s.”

“Hey!” Ron looked appalled. “What’s this talk of anyone  _ letting  _ anybody do anything? I’m a free man. Just ‘cause we’re dating doesn’t mean I have to do everything she says.”

Harry smirked, but decided to keep his reply to himself.  

After visiting Lee in the joke shop and having armfulls of free Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes merchandise thrust upon them, Harry and Ron rushed to Flourish and Blotts to finally buy their actual books and supplies. 

Harry caught another glimpse of a white-blonde head winding around the shelves as they stood in line. He wondered why Malfoy  _ was  _ returning to Hogwarts after all. As far as he knew, not many Slytherins had chosen to come back for their eighth year, for obvious reasons. Even with his father in Azkaban, he should still have enough connections within the ministry to land a decent job. Harry watched as Malfoy came back into sight, sifting through the potions textbooks. Suddenly, he turned his head and looked pointedly straight at Harry. Then he smirked. 

Harry hastily paid for his books and left with Ron to meet back up with Hermione. 


End file.
